HONTO 



The Red Man's Daughter. 



BY 



F. H. SHROCK. 



COPYRIGHTED 1892. 



HONTO 



The Red Man's Daughter. 



BY 



MAR ? 



F. H. SHROCK. 



COPYRIGHTED 1892. 



Characters Represented. 



Sir Henry Morgan, Commanding a slave 
ship. 

Johnson, his lieutenant. 

Oi,d Bill, his old sailor servant. 

Captain Kent, commanding man-of war. 

Owasso, Chief of Tuscororas, 

RED Feather, a brave. 

A Warrior. 

Indian Youth. 

Marjory, Sir Henry's daughter. 

Honto, daughter of Owasso. 

Prophetess. 

Indian warriors, sailors, Indians, etc. 



HONTO 



The Red Man's Daugnter. 



ACT I.— SCENE I. 

On the Sea Shore. 

[ Enter Sir Henry Morgan and Lieutenant 
Johnson] 

Sir Henry— -Well done, Johnson ! You have 
secured a fine lot of savage women and youths, 
who will fetch a good hundred pounds each in 
the slave markets of the Barbadoes. 

Lieutenant Johnson — Yes, Sir Henry; and in 
the raid on the village we lost not a man. It 
seems that the warriors were absent on a hunt, 
so we secured the captives with ease. The 
pretty Indian maiden seems to be the chiefs 
daughter, and speaks our language quite fluent 

Sir H — So much the more valuable the orize 
She alone should bring five hundred pr mds 
Well, let the prisoners be quartered c:. ohore 
while the ship is overhauled and put in trim 
for a swift cruise. Set a guard over the captives 
and let the maiden have a tent to herself, as 
she is of especial value, and we must see that a 
guard is assigned that no harm comes to her. 



Johnson- — Aye, aye, sir; let us get under way 
as soon as possible, least some cruising man- 
of-war discovers us, and we lose ship, slaves 
and maybe our lives, [Exit Johnson.] 

[Enter Old Bill, singing.] 

Old Bill — Oh, me name was Captain Kidd, 
As I sailed, as I sailed; 
Oh, me name was Captain Kidd, 
As I sailed. 

Bedad, I belave I'm a worse pirate than iver 
Mr. Kidd was as he sailed. His honor Mr. 
Kidd niver sthole women and childer to sill 
'em for bastely nagurs, as me company is after 
doin', bad luck to us. We all ought to be hung 
for a set of dirthy sphalpeens. [Suddenly sees 
Sir H.) Hist ! Be jabers, there's the owld 
man. I'd betther clap a stopper on me mouth, 
or maybe I'll get me jist disserts widout the 
troublesome little formalities of the law. (Sal- 
utes Sir H.) 

Sir H. — What are you prating about now, 
Bill ? Are you in your grog again ? 

Old Bill — No, master, I'm not in me grog, 
and divil the bit of grog that's in me— more' s 
the pity. 

Sir H — Well, Bill, you and all of us are in 
great good fortune, now, and you'll jiugle many 
an extra shilling in your pocket when we sell 
these slaves at the end of our journey. 

Old Bill — Under favor, master, I fale like I 
ought to be hung for helpin' to shteal these 
poor divils from home and frinds, instead of 
bein' paid for it, and I'll niver touch a pinny of 
the money brought by sellin' their bodies and 
sowls, if I shtarve for it. (Aside.) How the 
divil can I tell the owld man what Morjory 
axed me to? I'll tell him a story, pwhist. Say, 



master, how long has old Bill bee a in service 
in your family, and what kind of a servant has 
he been to ye and yer father ? And what did 
me swate mistress that's did, God rest her sowl, 
think of Bill, sir, as a sarvint? And sir, did 
your little girrul, Marjory, love old Bill when 
she was a bit of a baby ? 

Sir H — Why, Bill, I believe you have been 
in service in our family for more than forty 
years. When I was but a little boy, you rode 
me on your knee and told me your Irish fairy 
tales, and my poor wife always considered you 
the best and most faithful of servants; and 
Marjory has ever felt a special friendship and 
affection for her old servant. Yes, Bill, we all 
love you well; but why do you ask ? You 
knew all this before. 

Old Bill — Will, master, I want to ask ye a 
favor, and I thought I'd better feel me way a 
little furst. 

Sir //"—Well, Bill, you never ask a favor of 
me I am not glad to grant, if in reason, so 
don't be afraid What is it ? 

Old Bill — Master, I thank ye kindly for your 
good words. Now, master, Marjory, the swate 
little darlint, is afther falin mighty bad, sir, 
about that purtv little Injun girrul, sir, which 
is about her own age. sir, and she wants ye to 
lit the poor haythen, or, I should say, shethen, 
go back to her dear old daddy, the owld divil, 
and so she sint me to ax ye, sir. Why, sir, to 
see them two a huggin' wan other, and cryin' 
like their hearts would break, sir, makes salt 
wather come to me old eyes, sir, and a soft feel- 
in', like, in me hard owld heart, sir. Will ye 
do it, master, and make the two of 'em happy? 

Sir H. {sternly) — Old man, do not presume 



on your past services and my forbearance to 
meddle in matters which do not concern you. 
No I will not grant Marjory's request. The 
girl is by far the most valuable prize we have 
secured. Go, and remember my warning. 
Old Bill — Yis, yis, sir; I'll not forget. 

{Exit.) 

\_Enter Marjory and Honto. ~\ 
Marjory — O, father, I am so glad to have an 
opportunity to plead with you for this poor, 
sweet, captive girl. She is no savage. She is 
so gentle, so loving, so good Surely, my dear, 
good father, you would not doom this poor 
girl to a life of slavish drudgery and misery. 
Look at her sweet, pleading face, father Does 
not your kind heart melt in pity? Surely, oh 
father, you will let her go back to her father 
and friends. Speak, my dear, dear father — . 

Sir H—My daughter, you know not what 
you ask. It may not be. I can not grant your 
request. 

{Hon to kneeling. ] 

Honto-— O, great pale face ! I kneel to ask 
you, what has Honto ever done to be thus 
torn from those who love her ? Until now. 
Honto never knew an eye to rest on her except 
in kindness. Honto never wronged a human 
being in her life. Some awful mistake must be 
the cause. Oh, let me go back to my home, to 
my loved ones, and Honto and her people will 
bless you. Oh, pity the poor Indian girl who 
kneels to you. 

Sir H. [turning coldly away to Marjory) — 
Marjory, take this girl away. I can not, I will 
not, allow one of our prizes to escape. [Exit. ) 

Marjory (taking Honto by the hand) — Honto, 



my father will not relent; he will not let you. 
go; but by heaven's help, I shall effect your es- 
cape. You shall not be sacrificed to the god of 
avarice. 

Honto—O, sister, may Kishee Manitou bless 
you ! O, you will not forget— say, dear sister, 
you will not forsake — poor Honto ! 

Marjory — No, dear Honto ! Though it cost 
me my life, this night you shall be free. I will 
come to your tent and set you free. Fear me 
not. ( They go out.) 

[Old Bill from the wings, aside.] 
Old Bill-Ye\\ get her off, will ye? Will, 
bedad, maybe Owld Bill will be the guard, and 
if he is, and I sees or hears ye, jist look out. 
( Winks.) But I'm dom hard o' hearin', and me 
eyes can't see at all, at all. (Whin I'm lookin' 
the other way, d'ye moind; as I moight be; the 
divil knows.) 



SCENE II. 

[Old Bill on guard at Honto's tent. Enter 
Marjory with bright red shawl over her 
head.] 

Old Bill — Howld on, who are ye ? Speak 
out, or howld yer tongue. Why, beg pardon, 
it's Marjory ! 

Marjory— Bill, I want to see Honto for a 
while, so don't allow any one else to come near. 
{Enters tent, leaving it open. Old Bill paces 
to and fro on side. Marjory and Honto con- 
verse in earnest but low tones.) 

Old Bill {winks facetiously.) — Now, the In- 
jun, she's tellin' Marjory about the great big 
brave Injun as is in love wid 'er, and how she's 



dyin' wid love for him, and how purty he is and 
awl that; and Marjory she's tillin' the Injun 
how she loves Captain Kint, and how the Cap- 
tain is a dyin' wid love for her, and how brave 
and handsome he is, and how she's to be Mrs. 
Kint whin she gits back to owld Ingland, d'ye 
see ? Oh, thim's jist like all the purty females, 
God bless 'em. 

Marjory {in louder tone) — Yes, dear girl, 
though it cost me my life, you shall be free. 

Old Bill {singing, aside.) — 

Owld Ireland shill be free. 

Sis the Shan Van Vau ; 
From the ciutre to the sea, 

Sis the Shan Van Vau. 

Marjory— But you mast be gone, time is 
precious. Go, and may God guard and bless 
you. 

Honto — Bless you, sweet girl, I go. But 
hold. Wear this; it is the totem of our tribe, 
{takes totem from her neck and places it on 
Marjory' 's,) and may serve you. Farewell ! 
{Exit Honto with Marjory 's shawl over her 
head.) 

Old Bill— Howld on, there. Who is ye? Is 
it ye, Marjory? 

Marjory {from within tent) — Yes, Bill, it is 
I. 

Old Bill— I was afraid ye was somebody else. 
Ye talks like a ventriloquist. {Aside to Hon- 
to.) Good luck go wid ye, ye divil She's 
gone now, but, bedad, what'll I say to Sir Hen- 
ry, me master, whin he finds it out? Bejabers, 
I'll kape me owld ears open, for maybe I'll 
hear the wailin' of the banshee, to night, for- 
tillin' me own funeral jist. 



9 
SCENE III. 

[Same. Enter Sir H. and Johnson, .] 

Sir H — Johnson, let all preparations be made 
to set sail at the earliest possible moment. De- 
lay is dangerous. Some roving man-of-war 
may chance to discover us and if we are cap- 
tured our ship and cargo will be confiscated, 
our captives released and we imprisoned. Make 
all haste. 

Johnson —True, true, Sir Henry. I will have 
all ready to sail by nightfall. 

[Enter a sailor, excitedly ] 

Sailor— Lieutenant, the Indian girl has es- 
caped ! 

Sir Henry and Johnson— Escaped ! How? 
When? 

Sailor — I know not; but she is gone and no 
trace of her can be found. 

Sir H— Let all search be made at once and 
report to me. {Exit.) 

[Enter Bill, singing.} 

Bill — Oh, I first saw light, wan shiny night, 

In the County of Tipperary. 
And long before wan word I spoke, 

I learnt me ABU D'ry. 
And pravious to me readin' out 

Of any sort of printin', 
I wrote like copper plate, in litters 

Of me own inventin 1 . 

[Re-enters Sir H. excitedly.} 
Sir H — Silence, you old dog, you ! Where is 
that Indian girl? Speak, or I'll have you keel- 
hauled ! Where is she ? 

Old Bill — What Indian girl, your honor ? 



Sir H — Don't band}* words with me, you old 
scoundrel ! You know I mean Hon to, whose 
tent you guarded last night. 

Old Bill— Oh, yes, that girl. Why sir, that 
girl, she's in her tint, sir. She has the head- 
ache and ain't up yit. 

Sir H — Why, you lying old villian, you know 
she has escaped and with your connivance. 
I'll hang you, you scoundrel, as soon as the 
girl is retaken 

Old Bill — Yer honor, there is a mistake. 
She's in her tent, sure sir. 

Sir H—l will soon see, and if you have lied 
to me, I'll flay you alive. [Exit.] 

Old Bill — Ye' 11 flay me alive and ye' 11 hang 
me, will ye ? Will, ye can't cook yer hare till 
ye catch him. While yez are lookin' in the 
tint I'll take to the woods, for the bastely sav- 
ages can do no worse, bad luck to ye's. {Exit.) 

[Enter Sir H. and Marjory.] 
Sir H — Where is that lying old reprobate ? 
He lied to me most deliberately. I'll kill the 
old dog with my own hand ! He set this girl 
free, and I'll have his life for it ! 

Marjory— Oh, father, Old Bill is innocent! 
It was I who planned and effected the girl's 
escape. Do not visit your wrath upon poor old 
Bill. All the blame is mine; but I know, my 
dear father, that you will forgive me. 

Sir H — Why, you bold, disobedient, presump- 
tuous girl, how dare you thus disobey my posi- 
tive commands ? You have connived at this es- 
cape with that traitorous old dog. Go ! leave 
me, you wicked girl ! You have forfeited all 
claim to my love. Go seek congenial compan- 
ionship with your dusky friends. Go ! 



Marjory— Oh, father, father, say not so ! Do 
not, oh, do not say yon have ceased to love me; 
me, your only child ! Oh, pity pity, do not 
cast me off ! I am your only child, your own 
little Marjory ! 

Sir H — Leave me ! You are no longer my 
loving, dutiful Marjory. Go, you wicked, wil- 
ful girl ! 

[Ma rjory, kneel in g. ] 

Marjory — Oh, father, your words will kill me! 
Let me plead with you Do you not remember 
that bleak December day when you knelt with 
me at my mother's coffin -when we kissed her 
marble brow and purple lips — cold in death — 
when you called so piteously to her to come 
back to you — to come back to your poor little 
orphaned Marjory ? Oh remember, dear fath- 
er, how you took your little Marjory in 3^our 
arms, and in a frenzy of grief, you kissed my 
baby face and called on heaven and my cold 
dead mother lying there to witness that you 
lived thenceforth but to love and cherish your 
child; to so live that both of us should meet 
her in heaven ? Oh, father, remember this 
scene, and let the memory thaw out }^our heart, 
frozen against your child Forgive me, father, 
or I die. 

Sir H — 1 will not hear you. You knew my 
will, and wilfully disobeyed me. 

[Exit Sir H ] 

Marjory— Oh, God ! Oh Mother, look down 
from heaven on me in pity ! [fr'aints.~\ 



SCENE IV. 

[In the forest. Eater Marjory, slowly. ,] 

Marjory — Oh, this must be some horrid 
dream ! It cannot be that I am an outcast. Oh 
my father, how could you be so cruel to your 
only child, who always loved you as her own 
life ? For hours have I wandered through the 
gloomy forest, a prey to more gloomy thoughts. 
Oh, Father in heaven, pity me ! Oh, gentle 
spirit of my sainted mother, hover near your 
poor, deserted, friendless Marjory ! [Sits 
down.'] I will return to my father and again 
beseech his forgiveness, for I would perish in 
these wilds, as I am even now weak and faint 
from fatigue and hunger. [Looking all around 
with uncertainty,'] Oh, I have lost my way ! 
How can I ever retrace my steps ? Oh, merci- 
ful heaven, I am undone ! See, a band of sava- 
ges surround me. Oh, help, help ! 

[Enter Red Feather and braves, who seize Mar- 
jory,] 

Red Feather— Good Pale face die like Injun 
girl die. I heap kill 'ein. [Raises tomahawk 
to strike. ] 

Marjory — Oh, pity me ! Here, see this token. 
[Shows totem.] 

Red Feather— Ugh! Good! Totem of tur- 
tle. Where get 'em ? Steal 'em from Injun ? 

Marjory — No, oh great chief. I received it 
from an Indian girl whose life I saved. 

Red Feather — White tongue forked like 
snake. Pale face talk crooked. Red Feather 
take you to Good Prophetess. She wise. She 
good. She talk straight. Come. 



13 

Marjory— Oh, Great Chief allow me only one 
moment. Let me write to tell my people of 
my fate. 

Red Feather — You set Injun girl free? You 
not bad ? You lie ! Me kill you ! Me wait 
ten breaths. 

[Marjory writes.] 

Marjory — Dear Father; I have wandered 
alone into the forest, away from your anger, 
and I am now a captive and I fear I will be 
murdered by the savages. My last message is, 
forgive your Marjory, and bear to Oliver my 
undying love. Farewell, father. Your poor 
dying Marjory. [Drops the note on the ground. ] 
Great chief, I am ready. 

Red Feather— dome ! [Exit ] 



SCENE V. 

[In the forest. Old Bill.] 

Old Bill — Fur siveral hours I've been makin' 
tracks in the forest, and don't same to be inny 
nearer innywhere thin whin I shtarted. Why, 
what's this? Be the blachin' bones of Bryan 
Borou, it's a litther from Marjory .to herbastely 
owld father ! The little darlint is captivated by 
the Injuns, bad luck to 'em. Will, the owld 
divil '11 niver get the litther unless I act as a 
pinny post man, so I'll jist rin as near as I dare 
to and drop it, and maybe some of 'em '11 run 
across it, lookin' for Marjory or me. Thin I'll 
take leg bale agin for the village. 



14 
SCENE VI. 

[Same. Old Bill.] 

Old Bill— -Will, I dropped the litther purty 
close to the shore, and I'm here agin, but me 
old legs has give out intirely, and I'll rist a bit. 
[Lays down: raises up and listens.] Bedad, I 
hear a lot of jabberin', howlin', bastely Injuns 
comin'. Howly Moses, here they come like 
the devil was after 'em. What 'll I do? Be 
jabers I can't rin away, as they'd ketch me in 
a minute and make mince mate of me. Hist ! 
I've heard 'em say the divils won't hurt a crazy 
man. The more sinse a man ain't got, begob, 
the more they thinks of him, So I'll be crazy, 
d'ye moind ? 

[Enter savages with weapons uplifted, Old Bill 
assumes a comic attitude. Makes faces at 
them, barks like a dog. and makes all sorts of 
noises and acts in all sorts of ridiculous ways. ] 

Old Bill — Bow wow ! Whoop ! Yow yow ! 
Wurra wurra ! Ye divils. ye ! Boo whoo ! 
Do ye moind, gintlemen, I'm light in me top- 
gallant [taps his head .] 

Warrior — Ugh ! Pale face head wrong. No 
hurt. Great Spirit love him. Come. Injun 
take to wigwam. No hurt. Come. 

Old Bill—It's rale ilegant gintlemen I finds 
ye, barrin' yees ain't in avenin' dress; but, be- 
dad, I mustn't quit bein' crazy too suddenly, so 
bow ! wow ! agin, ye divils. Say, yees like to 
smoke the pace pipe. Thry a whiff at me du- 
deen. Bow ! wow ! Throt along, gintlemen. 
Yow ! yow ! [Exit. ] 



15 
SCENE VII. 

[On sea-shore. Sir H. and Johnson.] 

Sir //—Johnson, get all on board and let us 
set sail as soon as possible. Where is Marjory? 
I have not seen her for several hours. Poor 
girl, I was too harsh with her. 

Johnson— Aye, aye, Sir Henry, I will make 
all haste. 

Sir //—Poor child. I lcve her as my life, 
and I should not have wounded her tender 
heart so sorely. I will soothe her when she 
comes, and freely forgive her, poor thing. It 
was an error, caused by her tender heart. 

[Re-Enter Johnson.] 

Johnson—Sir Henry, Old Bill has fled to the 
forest, Marjory can not be found, and, to make 
matters worse, Man-of-War is in the offing and 
escape is impossible. What shall be done? 

Sir H. — What! Marjory, my child, gone! 
driven away by my cruelty ? Go, Johnson, let 
the forest be scoured in every direction for any 
trace of my darling— an hundred pounds reward 
to the man who brings me tidings of my child ! 
Let me go — foHow, with all your men. [Exit.] 
[Enter Capt. Kent.] 

Kent. — In the name of His Royal Majesty, I 
take possession of this slave ship, and order all 
her officers under arrest. Who and where is 
her commander ? 

Johnson — Her commander is Sir Henry Mor- 
gan, who left but now in search of his daughter. 

Kent — Sir Henry Morgan, Marjory's father? 
Gone in search of his daughter ? What mean 
you ? 



i6 

[Re-enter Sir H.~\ 

Kent — Oh, dear Sir Henry, how glad I am to 
see you. Where is Marjory ? 

Sir If. (Starting baclc with surprise)— Oh, 
Oliver, I fear my child is a captive or has been 
murdered by the savages. A sailor searching 
for some trace of her found this letter; (hands it 
to Kent) read it. What shall be done ? 

Kent— Oh, gracious heaven, protect my loved 
one — but this is no time for sentiment, but for 
action. Order all the captives here at once — 
give me a guide to the village — make provisions 
for our journey, and we will hasten to the 
camp of the savages and may yet save her. As 
you love your daughter, Sir Henry, haste. I 
will make necessary preparations to set out im- 
mediately. [Exit Kent and Sir H.\ 

[Enter Johnson with captives and sailors.] 

Johnson — All is now ready, and- we await our 
leader. 



CURTAIN. 



17 

ACT II. -SCENE I. 
Indian Village 

[Enter Red Feather and warriors with Marjory J 

Red F. — Ugh ! Warriors — go seek your wig- 
wams—eat—rest — Red Feather take pale-face 
to prophetess— she safe. [Exit Warriors ] 
[Red Feather approaches tent of Frophetess, who 
sits at the entrance ] 

Red F— Great Mother, Red Feather brings 
white squaw ; ketch 'em in forest — no kill 'em 
— white squaw got totem — what do — must kill 
'em ? 

Frophetess (rising)— Red Feather, my eyes are 
dimned with age and tears for the wrongs of my 
people. I have seen the prattling babe grow up 
to manhood wise and brave but to fall before 
the weapons of the pale face. I have seen the 
laughing, crowing infant grow up to beautiful 
womanhood but to be ruthlessly torn from 
home and friends by these pale-faced robbers 
to be sold into slavery — a fate worse than death . 
From the shores of the rolling big-sea water we 
have been crowded further and further towards 
the setting sun, so my old heart is full of bitter- 
est hate for the accursed authors of all our 
woes. Yet I venerate the sacred emblem of our 
tribe, and will consult the oracle. Await my 
return. [Enters tent.] 

[Re-enter Frophetess ] 

F. — Red Feather, closely have I scanned the 
curling smoke from the great medicine pipe, 
but in it I read no omen. I have noted the 
flight of the wild goose, but in it appears no 
sign. I have cast into the air the mystic 
feathers of the sacred heron, but their falling 



gave no significance. There remains therefore 
but one recourse — I must call up the spirit of 
our phantom warrior. He always responds, 
and his words are always words of wisdom. 
While I cast this awful spell speak not — move 
not — lest you die. 

[Prophetess lights a piece of gum camphor on a tin 
plate in front of her tent, and as the Invoca- 
tion progresses she scatters herbs on the fire ] 
[Invocation.] 
By the darkness of the night and the dark 
gloom of the forest— by the silence of death, 
Great Warrior Spirit, I invoke thee — by the 
hooting of the midnight owl— by the screaming 
of the hungry panther — by the howling of the 
dusky wolf, oh, Great Warrior, I nvoke thee — 
by the hoarse rumbling of the thunder- -by the 
blinding glare of the forked lightning — by the 
rattling hail and pelting rain — by the sweeping 
tempest — the crashing forest — by the rushing 
river and roaring cataract, I call thy spirit to 
come to me, and by the gentle sighing of sum- 
mer breezes, the murmur of the rivulet— by the 
fragrance of leaf of grass and flower, Oh Great 
Warrior, hear me. By humming bee, by twit- 
tering birds, oh Spirit, come. And now, by thy 
love for thy people and thy hatred for the pale 
face, answer, Great Chief. What shall be the 
fate of this captive maiden? Speak, oh great 
spirit; my ears are open. 

[Voice within tke tent.] 

Phantom Warrior — Daughter, from the gloomy 
caverns of death — from the land of rattling 
bones and grinning skeletons — from blackness 
and horrors, I come. Through these regions 
of awe and death — away, in the land of sum- 
mer, in the happy hunting grounds of the 



19 

hereafter, I heard thy invocation, and through 
the land of darkness and death I came to hear 
the cry of my people. I hear your voice and 
will speak. This daughter of an accursed race 
should die ; but I see her heart. It is red, 
though her face is white. I see there no hatred 
for our people I see she is kind and good — 
and now, if in all our tribe even one shall raise 
a voice to plead for her, let her live and be 
adopted into our tribe If no friend appears, let 
her die. I have spoken. I return to the land 
of shadows. 

Prophetess— -The oracle has spoken. Seek 
our Chief Owasso ; bear to him the Phantom 
Warrior's words that he may see them executed. 
[Sits a .gain in her tent.] 

\ Rid Feather approaches Owasso' s tent. Owasso 
rashes oat with ap lifted tomahawk.'] 

Owasso — Who dares approach the wigwam of 
Owasso? The stealthy tread of the panther 
awakens him -shall noisy intruders pass un- 
noticed ? Speak; who are you ? 

Bed F. — I, Red Feather — bring pale face — 
ketch 'em in forest. 

Owasso —Let her die — as died my daughter by 
pale face murderers. Let my thirsty weapon 
drink her life's blood. 

Red F. — No. Phantom Warrior spoke — say 
let pale live if any Injun asks it — no ask, 
kill 'em. 

Owasso — Owasso hears and heeds the words 
of wisdom from the great Councillor. Take 
her to the place of execution, and unless by the 
time the sun stands just over our heads at noon- 
day, some Indian voice is raised in her behalf, 
let her die. Owasso has spoken. 



SCENE II. 

[Indian camp. Marjory tied to tree, surrounded 
by warriors, Owasso to one side.] 
Owasso — The sun has now reached the place 
of noonday and no voice has been raised in the 
pale face's behalf. She must die. Warriors, 
prepare your weapons — but hold ! I see an 
Indian maiden approaching. 

\_Enter Honto, running.] 

It is — it is my child— mv Honto. Oh, great 
Spirit, I thank thee. My child I mourned as 
dead is given back to me. Tell me, child, how 
you escaped the clutches of the pale-faced rob- 
bers ? 

Honto - Oh Father, Honto's heart is full of 
joy to be restored to you, and to be again with 
her people. Father, among my capturers I 
found a kind, sweet maiden, whose heart bled 
for Honto's wrongs. She set me free — she 
saved me. I gave her my totem at parting, but 
she is now, I think, far out on the big-sea water 
with her cruel father. 

Owasso — Come, child, speak quickly ! [draws 
her to Marjory.] See, is this your benefactress? 

Honto {with a scream of surprise and detight) — 
Oh, Marjory !— my saviour ! Why are you thus 
bound? 

Marjory —Oh, Honto, we have changed places 
so strangely. I am doomed to death. 

Honto — Death ? Death to my liberator ? 
Father, cut these cruel thongs; set my white 
sister free. Quick ! quick ! 

Owasso— -Yes, yes, my child ; the pale face is 
my daughter. She shall be free, and in obedi- 
ence to our Phantom Warrior's words, she shall 
be adopted into our tribe. 



[Enter Indians with Old Bill, who sees .Marjory, 
runs to her, and goes through some ludicrous 
antics as to the Indians.] 

Old Bill. — Vow wow ! Whoopee ! Yow yow! 
God bless you my missus — booh whoo — ye 
ain't did yet, darlint. {To Honto.) And here 
you are, ye little devil, good luck to ye. Bow 
wow ! yow yow ! whoopee ! 

Marjory (to Honto) — Honto, poor Old Bill, our 
good old friend, has lost his head from fright. 
Poor old man 

Old Bill— Hist ! aisy, miss ; Owld Bill lost 
his head so he'd save it. jist. If Honto says I'm 
safe, ye'll see how quick Ould Bill will git his 
sinses agin. 

Honto — You are perfectly safe, my good old 
friend. {To Oicasso.) This good old man is my 
friend. He helped me to escape. Give him 
your assurance of his safety. 

Oicasso- -Good pale face, you are safe. You 
are Owasso's brother. 

Old Bill— Thank ye kindly, ( punches his cap- 
tor in the ribs — facetiously). Say, ye divil ; Old 
Bill's all ship-shape in the upper story agin. 
And now, gintlemen, Ould Bill '11 stick to yees 
through thick and thin — as long as thim two 
girls is wid ye oh, ye little darlints, ye ! 



CURTAI.Y. 



22 

ACT III.— SCENE I. 
Indian Visage 
[Enter Prophetess, lending Marjory.) 
Prophetess — Maiden, the Great Spirit has 
smiled upon his pale-faced daughter. The 
deadly arm of the warriors has been stayed by 
his mighty power. Your kindly act has 
brought a just reward Honto has been his 
messenger. We now adopt you into our tribe. 
Kneel, my daughter, with me. Our women 
will encircle us ; our warriors will surround us; 
and now, with heads bowed down in reverential 
awe, let us invoke the approval of Kishee 
Mauitou, the Great Spirit. Oh father of light, 
thy children kneel to thee ; hear our cry. To 
look approvingly upon us is to give us thy 
blessings. Thou art all good all-loving. Gild 
now this scene with the glorious sun-light of 
thy approval. Bind this maiden to us by ties 
thrice stronger than the sinews of the bison — 
the strong chords of love. She has been good 
amidst so much evil ; she has been merciful 
amidst so much cruelty ; she has been loving 
amidst so much hatred that we beseech thee, 
oh Great Spirit of the Red Man, to bestow 
upon her the love thou hast for us. Oh, Kishee 
Manitou, hear our cry. Rise, my daughter, 
and look upon this scene. You are now a 
member of our tribe. Warm, loving hearts are 
around thee ; helping hands encircle thee ; 
strong, brave arms are above thee, and so long 
as these hearts shall throb with life, so long 
they beat for you. So long as these hands per- 
form their office, so long will they work, for 
your good. So long as these strong arms have 
nerve to strike, they will strike in your defense. 
And when, one by one, these warm hearts are 



23 

chilled and ihese strong arms lie nerveless in 
death — these loving ones go but over the dark- 
ness of death to the other shore. And when 
the swift-footed runner from Kishee Manitou 
comes to summons vou to join them, they will 
welcome you on the brink and conduct you to 
the great happy summer home of the Red 
Man. Maiden, I have done. {Prophetess takes 
position on the side.] 

Old Bill {to Owasso) -Say, brother Chafe, do 
you moind them rid gintlemen and ladies — be 
gob, there's some white ruin, too. Who the 
divil can thim ba ? 

[Warriors all seize weapons and prepare to fight. 
Enter an Indian youth running. Enter 
sailors, Indians, Kent Sir H.] 

Indian — Owasso, our Chief— the prisoners are 
all returned. Our white friends here release us. 

Owasso — Welcome, my rescued people ; and 
welcome, pale face friends. 

Old Bill — Oh, Marjorv, me darlint, here's 
Capt. Kint, as I'm an Injun— and, bedad, here's 
me ould master, God bliss Mm. 

Marjory {running and embracing Sir H.) — Oh, 
my dear, dear father ! My heart is full of joy 
at seeing you once more. 

Sir H — Oh, bless you, my dearest Marjory ! 
Forgive all my harshness. But I must not 
monopolize you. Here, Oliver, take her. 

Kint— Oh, my Marjory ! 

Marjory— Oh., Oliver, Oliver! {They embrace.'] 

Kent — Marjory, you shall never, never, leave 
me again. I sail for our home to morrow, and 
our Chaplain shall make you my wife ere we 
sail. 

Marjory —Oliver, but my father. 



24 

Kint — He shall be forgiven, and we'll set sail 
for home at the same time. 

[They take places in line for tableau.] 

Old Bill— Say, owld masther, Owld Bill towld 
ye a bit of a lie, but ye won't keel-haul him 
now, will ye? Ye won't flay him alive, will 
ye ? Ye won't hang him to the yard's arrum, 
will ye ? 

Sir H — Say no more, my faithful old servant. 
I freely forgive you and bless you with all my 
heart for your devotion to Marjory. [Takes his 
place in line.] 

Old Bill — Say, me little rid beauty, ye must 
come now and take yer place wid Rid Fedder, 
for soon ye' 11 be Mrs. Rid Fedder. [Places 
them in line] And now, brother Chafe, we'll 
close up the ranks. 

[Owasso takes place at end of line on left. Old 
Bill completes line on left and says :] 
And now, me frinds, we thanks ye for yer 
kind indulgence to us all in our amateur indiv- 
ors to please ye, and we hope ye'll live a thous- 
and years, and iver remimber with plisure, 

Honto, the Red Man's Daughter. 



CURTAIN. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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